


Life

by FaeriArchive (FaeriMagic)



Series: School Assignments [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Vietnamese Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriMagic/pseuds/FaeriArchive





	Life

All children know of the ancient legend of the world’s beginning. Of the golden crow that shown fiery light onto the face of the earth, and of the ivory swan whose gentle glow in the night sky soothed the fears of the dark.

And we know of our heritage, of the Goddess Âu Cơ, who ate the forbidden earth and was prevented from returning to the 36 th heaven and cried sweet tears. Of the kind Dragon Prince who comforted her, so much that they fell in love and married.

Of the 50 sons and 50 daughters that became our ancestors.

The thought of being half goddess and half dragon always thrilled me. 

“But how come I can’t live forever or breathe underwater?” I would ask  _ mẹ _ , my mother, when I was little.

“Ngủ đi con."  _ Go to sleep,  _ she would say gently. “You have work to do tomorrow.”

And I would go to sleep, dreaming of crows and swans. 

Those days of childhood were blissful. 

I never knew of our Chinese rulers who oppressed us. My past was filled with sticks, stones, and broken bones. From tripping over ox dung, of course; not from any hooligans. 

Of course, the usual childhood stuff was in there, the Tết paper lanterns, the yummy earth and sky cakes; it was all very enjoyable.

However, it was when I was 10 that I realized that we were controlled by the Chinese. How could I have missed it? The taxes we had to pay were large, but somehow, I had never really noticed those large sacks of precious rice, as I played with my stick dolls.

In a way, it was kind of ironic.

My fantasy world was happy, cheerful, fun, and to sum it up, it was the luxurious life I had envisioned for our family.

“Look at this marvelous vase!” My stick mother said as she poked a gray lump of rock.

“This silk is absolutely divine!” said my stick father, holding a green leaf.

Stick me would agree and go play with the stick toys her rich father had bought her. The Stick family would then go eat slices of stick beef for dinner and went to bed. (Which, in my fantasy world, were  _ not _ the mats we slept in).

When it was time to collect taxes, I saw that much of our supply of rice had suddenly disappeared.

“Mother, where did all the rice go?” I asked. My mother thought that I was too young to understand taxes.

“The Chinese people took it.” She said.

“Why?” I asked.

She sighed. “Because that is the way it has always happened.” She went back to preparing the dinner.

I glanced at the remaining supply of rice. That was the time I had first encountered reality.

The Stick family was never touched since that day.

My hatred of the Chinese only lasted two years. It was then the Trung sisters came into existence. 

I had been twelve when Lady Trắc had given her well-known speech to a mass of soldiers.

“Foremost I will avenge my country.

Second I will restore the Hung lineage.

Third I will avenge the death of my husband.

Lastly I vow that these goals will be accomplished.”

At least that was the village gossip at the time. 

The words had struck me with awe. Lady Trắc had indeed fulfilled her promise. With the help of her sister, Lady Nhị, they had driven our Chinese oppressors, and therefore, became Queens. These accomplishments had surely avenged her husband’s death.

Even so, my fantasy world was never achieved.

However, it is safe to say that life was slightly better.

No Chinese code or law, no taxes, all you had to do was provide enough for yourself and your family. In other words, we were free. Free to do whatever we wanted. Free of the Chinese, free of terror, hatred and fear. Free. 

Smiles and laughter began to flow easily through our village again. 

I began helping out in the fields, instead of doing the regular household chores. I got to till our four fields. The old ox steadily dragged the till through the ground as I guided it and made sure nothing was in the till’s way.

The fresh air was always kind and inviting in those open fields. The sky was usually blue with clouds that formed funny shapes. As I walked in the paddies, I would talk to the ox. Sometimes I even sing. It is a secret of mine. It’s the one place where I can forget all that has happened and I can relive childhood again, even if just for a moment. No one has ever heard me talk or sing to that ox. I try to keep it that way. 

_ Mẹ _ would usually stay inside where she would feed the other animals we keep and begin making dinner. She would tidy the house a little bit, and I would go back inside when she yelled “ _ Ân cơm _ !” And then I would hurriedly hitch the ox to his post and run inside the house where I was greeted by the sweet scent of cooked rice and some various other foods in it.

When I was little, my father would till the fields, grow the rice, collect the rice, and sell some of it at the market. Now that I was old enough, he had more time to do the selling. Sometimes he had time to fish. On those days where he was able to catch something, we had a feast.

The year passed by. Skirmishes with the Chinese still persisted, but the Queens still held their ground. We still had our freedom.

Those New Years were spectacular, the moon shone more brightly than ever, the villagers partied and danced more than I could ever remember. Not that I tried to remember. I was always trying to have my share of fun on those New Years. I remember the savory Tết cakes and of the sparkling fireworks. Of dancing with the few friends I had, dancing to the flutes and drums and pipes that played so lively and bright. 

We were living like there was no tomorrow. We never knew when this way of life would suddenly end. 

My fifteenth year on this planet soon arrived. Nothing spectacular really happened. We didn’t really celebrate it, but that was fine. It wasn’t an occasion to celebrate anyways; I had already celebrated it on New Years. 

The seasons were hot, and sweaty. The rice grew slowly, and I wasn’t sure whether or not they were growing at all. But the majority of the crops grew fine, and I wasn’t worried about starvation. 

It was dinner when my father back from the market. His face was grave and as he sat down to eat, I asked him, “ _ Ba _ , what is wrong?”

“Thu, do you remember Queen Trắc and Queen Nhị?”

I nodded.

He glanced down at the dinner. “This time…” he said. “This time, they did not win.”

My mother who was serving out the food, paused. “What?”

“They did not win against the Chinese.” 

My mother placed the bowl back down. “Don’t tell me they surrendered.” She said. I paled. They couldn’t surrender, they  _ can’t _ surrender. What would we do without them?

My father sighed. “No, and that’s the good thing.” He began eating. “They committed suicide.”

My mother sighed in relief. “That’s good, no shame for the people.” She also began to eat.

I was puzzled. “Suicide?  _ Ba _ , what does that mean?” I had never heard such a word. I didn’t go to school, that was for the rich. My family couldn’t spare the only child they had, so I spent my entire life in the rice paddies. So my knowledge of words only came from those everyday words that people used a lot.

He glanced at me. “Suicide. It is when a person kills himself.”

I choked on my rice. “Kills…himself.” I swallowed.

“Yes. If done for the right reason, it is an honorable way to die. Our Queens chose suicide rather than to surrender. They threw themselves into the river.”

My mind pictured a person, unable to breathe, drowning…dying…

My stomach lurched. 

I stood up and ran outside.

As soon as I reached the ox, my stomach contents heaved. The ox graciously ignored me. 

I couldn’t help it. The idea of one killing himself was so new to me.

And so disgusting.

Honor. My people placed honor over everything, even at over own life. 

“The Queens are gone.” I said grimly to the ox. “They killed themselves.” The ox continued to munch whatever he was munching. 

“We’ll be taken over by the Chinese again. No more laughter, no more happiness. No more—” I burst into tears. My cheeks became red as I sobbed. Crying was so embarrassing. 

But I couldn’t stop myself. The reason for the sudden intrusion of hope when I was twelve, was now gone.

Now what could we do? Go back to the sad, dark lives we had before?

The ox nudged me.

I looked at him. 

_ What the heck are you crying for? _ He seemed to say.  _ You’re alive, you’re breathing? You have better things to do than to cry over things beyond your control.  _

I laughed. His serious expression was so funny compared to his usual lazy attitude.

“What? Do you want to work in the fields some more?” I said. At the mere word of work, he resumed to chewing his lob of greens. I laughed again.

I rubbed his head and went inside the house.

“ _ Tôi xin lỗi. _ ” I said. I’m sorry. “I shouldn’t have run out in the middle of dinner. I felt suddenly sick. It wasn’t the food!” I added hastily, before my mother had the chance to become offended. “I feel much better now. The food looks absolutely delicious.” I started downing the food quickly. My mother smiled due to my compliment and I basked in her glow.

“What should we do, though?” my mother said, continuing the conversation with my father. “The Chinese is bound to return, then what would we do?”

I glanced outside at the fields. 

I had an answer, though I kept it to myself. 

_ So long as I’m alive, I shall be happy. The dead do not have that advantage. _

The ox mooed in agreement. 

What the Queens did was very honorable, and I thank them for that. But I myself do not think that I will follow their path. For when you are dead, you are unable to help rebuild the country. It is only when you are alive that you are able to do that, whether or not you had honor.

My mother looked worriedly at me. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling well?” she asked.

I looked at her and smiled. “I feel very well, thank you Mother.”


End file.
